Bukola Koiki is a mixed media artist working in Portland, Oregon. She is a graduate of the Applied Craft + Design MFA program at Oregon College of Art and Craft and Pacific Northwest College of Art. Bukola recently wrapped up her first solo show at the Portland Building, and is a current Project Manager at Scout Books. This interview is the fourth in a series conducted by OCAC thesis student Lindsay Costello.

Duplex: You were born in Lagos, Nigeria and moved to the States as a teenager. How did your upbringing help determine your path as an artist?

Bukola Koiki: I grew up in a bright and vibrant culture full of colors and patterns on everything from textiles to signage. Life has always been colorful. My parents were a bit bewildered about my artistic streak, since they championed a more pragmatic direction like medicine or law. However, through perseverance and a series of fortunate events involving a high school classmate and the American Visa Lottery, I was able to come to the U.S to live my dream. The grim reality of being an immigrant teenager was not easy or glamorous, but I think because I have lived through some dangerous and interesting times in Nigeria with my family, I have always been able to find my way through the various challenges I’ve encountered on my way to an artistic career.

I Claim That Which Was Never Mine; digital video, 4:30 minutes, looped in installations. 2014.

Duplex: Your work explores cultural hybridity and dislocation, often through the use of paper, fiber and natural dyeing processes. How do these materials support your overarching themes? For instance, can you expand a little on your material choices in I Claim that Which Was Never Mine, where you made indigo-dyed geles (Nigerian head wraps) from Tyvek and canvas?

BK: Paper, textiles and yarn are all mediums that can be made to feel or look like other materials, and this adaptability is what makes them interesting to use in my work. For I Claim That Which Was Never Mine, I was exploring the idea that displaced people can claim parts of their cultures through the act of making and repetition. Specifically, I was investigating the rite of passage of learning to tie a head tie for traditional outfits for special occasions, a skill not learned at the feet of my mother or other elders. I used Tyvek and canvas as representations of the actual textiles used for Nigerian head ties (gele and aso oke respectively). This helped to further enhance the idea of dislocation I was exploring in this work. The Tyvek was especially resonant, since it’s this strange hybrid textile itself (neither paper nor cloth.) Through experimentation, I discovered that it can be dyed, though its hold on the dye is tenuous and eroded with time. I think that same uncertainty and tenuous hold is present in the lives of displaced persons of every kind.

Oregon College of Art and Craft MFA graduate Hannah Newman is a multimedia artist based in Portland, Oregon. She is an Artist-in-Residence at Rainmaker Artist Residency. This interview is the third in a series conducted by OCAC thesis student Lindsay Costello.

Duplex: How did your upbringing influence your path as an artist? Were your parents artists, or did you have a creative mentor growing up?

Hannah Newman: I didn’t think much about the arts, especially visual arts when I was young. My interest in pursuing visual art didn’t surface until I began my undergraduate degree and learned that art could encompass so much more than I had imagined. Looking at my upbringing, however, I can see many things that have lead me to this point, but two things really stand out:

First, I was home schooled for most of my life, which made me realize at a young age that any system (in this case attending a school) probably has alternatives and loopholes, and what new possibilities might exist if we consider engaging those systems in unexpected ways.

Second, I was a dedicated Irish dancer from elementary school until I graduated from high school. I think dancing gave me a high threshold for endurance, and even enjoyment, within a practice of monotony. Once a week we had drill class, where would practice each minuscule section of a dance 50-60 times in a row. My friends and I dreaded drill class, but it worked—repetition allowed you to learn through your body exactly how a dance should feel. A lot of my work now has repetition or boredom somehow built into it, like writing the iTunes Agreement by hand, or stenciling the phrase ‘one becomes accustomed so quickly’ on a piece of paper every day. Irish dancing taught me the value of repetition, discipline, and enacting a concept with your body, and I carry those values into my work now.

Duplex: Your work “examine[s] digital technology and language as intangible structures that mediate our interactions with others, the world, and ourselves.” How did your interest in the relationship between language and technology develop?

HN: It’s not something we generally consider, but language is also technology—just a much older, and much more internalized form of technology. Many of the worries people have raised about the possible effects of digital technology were present when both the alphabet, and later the printing press, came into widespread use. Socrates discouraged the use of written language for fear that people would no longer rely on their memories once they learned to write. Ultimately language and digital technologies are structures humans have developed to communicate with one another. So what can an old technology teach us about a new one and vice versa? Any technology, especially ones so widely adopted, teaches us about ourselves since we are the ones who have designed, developed, and adapted it. Thinking about technology is really just thinking about ourselves.